All Roads Lead to You
by Sylver Secret
Summary: An exgundam pilot ponders the meaning of love, and a sudden realization forces him to follow his emotions...to love's doorstep. My first shounen ai 1x3


OMG. Yaoi/shounenai! Oneshot! I never though the day would come---but I'm really gonna test my fic-ing abilities….here goes.

Warnings: Shounen ai, OOC all around, but I don't think its too outlandish.

**All Roads Lead to You**

_I don't know much about what love is, but I know of its complexity. I have witnessed it damage people's sense of logic, as they spiral into an abyss of irrationality. I've seen it bring strength, hope and vitality into a person's spirit. It gives people something to fight for---something to die for. But more importantly, it gives people something to _**live**_ for. I think it takes much more courage to live for something than to die for it---Catherine taught me that. She taught me a lot of things, that I am more than just a soldier with no mission. I am a person. What do people do? The live, they learn, they interact with one another. They **love. **I live, I learn, and begrudgingly interact. But do I love? Can I? I've given it some thought, but I'm not entirely sure. I love Catherine, but it's different. I respect her, I admire her strength. I will always protect her, as she has protected me. I will always appreciate that she took me under her wing. _

Trowa sighed quietly, sitting back in his chair. His green eyes rolled over the page slowly. The notebook was new, the pages still crisp. His handwriting flowed in neat, small blue curves and lines. The words seemed foreign to him, though he had only written them a moment ago. They almost did not seem like his, but he knew they were his own thoughts. There was a lost and urgent vulnerability in the tone—weakness.

'I guess it makes no difference,' he thought, 'lately, my strength is hardly needed…'

. He stretched his fingers for a moment, and placed the pen to the paper once more.

_There is one person who has my deepest admiration, respect and affection. His strength never ceases to astound, and his sheer will—his determination is incredible. As a soldier, he was unparalleled. He followed orders, yet he maintained a sense of integrity. He did not lose sight of his morals—he followed his emotions. I had always thought that soldiers were not supposed to have emotions—let alone follow them. I remember the pain in his eyes when he'd discovered he had killed innocent people. I distantly watched him put his life in the hands of others---the victims' families. Everything was so well thought-out and calculated, but behind the cold calculations I could see his kind heart. What would I know about such strength? What would I know about such…perfection? What do I know about love?_

Trowa sat down his pen, and sighed once more. He pondered the entry for a moment, reading it once more. The weakness in his voice poured into his written word, oozing over the pages, sticking to his fingers. The nakedness in the words was overwhelming, blinding even. Trowa ripped the sheet out of the notebook, and crushed the paper into a tight ball.

"How is this possible?" Trowa's quiet voice was lost in the wind outside. It thrashed violently, entangling with the sounds of distant thunder. Rain pounded on the roof, and the windowpane. Earth's storms were more potent, and more beautiful than the storms on the colonies. They sky was a battlefield, but no bloodshed. Only water—purifying water.

Trowa did not have to take much caution. He was completely alone. The pale blue walls and simple furnishings of his apartment would not betray him. The photographs of pilots and friends could not hear his thoughts, or his words—or anything. He was free to do, or say anything, anything at all. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

"I love him."

His voice was a whispered hush. It was the ghost of a declaration, but it was enough for him. Trowa had come to terms with the truth, and his thoughts melted into fantasies of unruly dark hair, and distant Prussian blue eyes. He thought of soft, apricot skin, slick with rain. Pink lips, warm and inviting, called to him. He longed to touch, to hold, and to kiss. Longing gave way to desperate need, and Trowa stood. He did not bother to grab a coat as dashed out of his apartment.

He ran.

The rain was cold, pounding against his skin. He could barely feel anything other than the quickened beating of his heart, and the blood surging through his veins. Even in the cold, his body burned. His agility, his endurance, his speed propelled him down the road. Nothing could stop him. He ran, and ran, and ran until he thought he would collapse. And then he kept running.

Trowa fell to his hands and knees on the front porch of a condominium. His breath was ragged, his muscles burned. His lungs ached, each breath causing wincing pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and wretched in the near by bushes. Trowa half walked, half crawled towards the door. He raised his fist to knock, but the door swung open before his hand made contact. Forest green met Prussian blue. His ragged breath caught in his throat, though he managed to grunt one intelligible sound:

"Heero."

His blue eyes widened, as Trowa fell towards him. Heero's muscles tightened, as he hoisted the man into his arms. He carried him into the house, closing the door with his foot. Heero looked down at the ex-Gundam pilot in his arms. His waterlogged clothes clung mercilessly to his thin, yet muscular body. His brown hair was wet and sloppy, falling in both of his closed eyes. Once olive-toned skin was pale and his soft, pink lips were turning blue. He looked almost frail, but Heero knew better.

Heero gently laid Trowa down, and carefully pulled his blue turtleneck over his head. The sopping wet jeans and boxers were skillfully and quickly removed as well. His sculpted midsection was slick with rainwater that cascaded down his cold body. Heero grabbed a towel, and dried him delicately. Once he was dry, Heero dressed him and wrapped his unconscious friend in a blanket. He carried him up the stairs, and gently laid him in his own bed---it was the only suitable place. Heero had turned the guest bedroom into a workout den. Once Trowa was secure, he prepared tea and headed back upstairs. Green eyes looked up at him.

"You're awake," Heero stated calmly. Trowa nodded, pulling the covers around him more tightly. Heero set the tea down on the bedside table. He folded his arms across his shirtless chest, and Trowa noticed how low his sweatpants hung on his hips.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I was taking your advice," Trowa responded, he sat up and reached for the tea. A single eyebrow disappeared into Heero's perpetually disheveled bangs, and he sat down at the edge of the bed. Trowa blushed ever so slightly.

"What?"

"You told me to follow my emotions, and they lead me to you," He replied. His voice was low and hushed. It was barely above a whisper, but Heero had no trouble hearing the words. It was the meaning he was having trouble with. Conflict and confusion was clearly evident in his Prussian blue eyes. He furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. Trowa reached for Heero's arm, and he turned slightly. His face was softer, and his eyes were wide, blue and almost oceanic. Trowa was losing himself, losing his resolve in those eyes. Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he just tell him?

The distance between their faces had gotten inexplicably and painfully close. Damning all consequences, Trowa leaned forward and closed the gap. Heero's eyes widened in shock and he stiffened, but his muscles relaxed. Not breaking contact, he turned to face Trowa, who was in a state of delirium. His head swam, and he was grateful that he was not standing up. He parted his lips and deepened the kiss. The gentle, soft, gesture gave way to a hungrier, more passionate kiss. Hands slipped around waists, and entangling in hair. Heero pulled away for just a moment. His face flushed, and eyes heavy with lust. A very tiny smirk tugged at his lips.

"…Oh, _that's _what you meant."

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So…..what do you think? I got the idea after watching the first 20 or so episodes. Review—all comments welcome. )

Sylver


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